


Petty Things

by Iyatiku



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17353844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iyatiku/pseuds/Iyatiku
Summary: River is counting her goodbyes, but she doesn't count the times she says hello OR that trip home after the Doctor took River ice skating in London, 1814.





	Petty Things

**Author's Note:**

> Look. LOOK. I don't know either alright. It just happened, over and over again, for a thousand words. Is this pairing even active anymore? WHO KNOWS. Anyway i'm mushy for River Song shut up and enjoy.

“Hello Sweetie.”

Ah. Those words. They slip from her lips like a final breath. It’s like that every time, because every time feels like it could just be the last, and that’s what’s so exciting. The raised hairs on her arms tell her that, the spike of pleasure across her scalp, and her shoulders, they slot back, fitting into the slightly lopsided lean of the stance she takes to watch him turn.

Watch him pivot in his too short trouser legs, a _broom with a bowtie,_ all limbs and fingers, lengths and stretches. How such a life fit into such a small form she always wonders, she pictures time wrapped around his bones like wire, protecting him. He’d be damn fragile without time to protect him she’s sure.

“Alright what is it, you’re leaning, you never lean.” She watches him over rotate just an inch to far and roll his body around to the other side of the console as if it were completely planned. Then he starts pressing buttons. He’s always pressing buttons. “Is it the dress, are you still unhappy about the dress? Because you know I could always pop back and see if there’s anything more to your liking I knew a Marjorie, worked in Selfridges – wait, no, was that Marjorie in New York? No matter I’ve got a space ship we can hop on over and be back to do it all again before our footprints have faded – River, why aren’t you saying anything?”

His head and shoulders appear, and even if she can’t see his hands, she knows they’re rubbing awkwardly against each other because she’s making him _nervous_ and she _loves it._

“Oh, the dress is lovely. Marjorie you said?”

She watches the space between his eyebrows tense momentarily. She _is_ leaning now, scarf and muff discarded in a pile at the bottom of the TARDIS steps.

“Yes, well, she had a bit of trouble with an ex-boyfriend I happened to interrupt and you know what they say-“

“Poked your nose in where it didn’t belong, I suppose.”

“How dare- I’ll have you know he had a bit too strong a taste for broccoli to be entirely natural but stop it you’re distracting me Doctor River Song, why are you leaning and why did you say hello and why…are you smiling like that.” He emerges from behind the console and there it is, the hand wringing and is she smiling? Of course, she’s smiling. The Doctor is wringing his hands. Of course she’s smiling.

“Oh I’m just wondering if Mr Wonder had any idea where he really was tonight.” She pushes off the handrail and reached forward to lay a hand softly on the console. It’s never cold, and it’s always gentle. A bit like its thief, who she knows is watching her every move with pristine attention. She hadn’t been expecting such a change when they met again; that brooding man with the scent of war still on his clothes, it didn’t seem possible that he could also be the fumbling timelord behind her, but she knew better.

“River.”

“Oh, what is that serious tone my love? Are you not having the most _awful_ fun?” She sidles back towards him, standing there with his heels pressed together and his head tilted forward. “Don’t look so _worried_.”

“Hmm. Well.”

“Don’t want to say goodbye, is it? Oh my dear, we’ll see each other soon.”

He hasn’t quite figured it out yet. He has the memory of numerous loves but it’s not quite within his reach. The knowing what to do when she brushes her hands across his collar to get rid of the last specks of snow. When she twists a piece of his hair off his face, or traces the line of his jaw.

It’s fine though, when he takes her softly by the waist with one hand, holding up the sonic with the other like he’s asking permission. She presses her chin into his shoulder and lets the light dim on the other side of her closed eyelids.

“I’m a bit, uh, bad at this, Amy’s words, but maybe,” she hears the sonic buzz again and there’s music again. She can’t quite tell what it is, or where it’s coming from, but it’s there, “like that?”

She takes a step, and another, until he’s stepping with her. The smallest of dances, and she knows the question is coming, like it always does. He’s not subtle when he’s trying to be.

“River-“

“Don’t, please my darling. Let’s just be quiet for a while.”

“River why did you say hello to me?”

Oh. Not the question. Still not something she wants to answer though. The hair on her skin stands up and that tells her she’s happy. She’s happy that she’s here and he’s holding her and she’s River Song and he’s the Doctor and they’re _together_ and she almost says it all but _he’s the doctor._

He doesn’t deal in petty things like falling in love.

“Well maybe I just like saying hello. Nice word isn’t it?”

“Very nice, but I don’t think that’s why you said it.” He stops moving his feet but his cheek stays pressed against her hair. He’s hiding his face. That tells her he’s afraid.

“Well I suppose…” she begins but doesn’t really know where to go next. She waits, and she’s used to it. Everything with the Doctor is anticipation, that nervous feeling in her stomach when he’s away for too long, the blind trust she puts in his future and her past, not quite knowing when will be the last. How many goodbyes had they said now? Too many to count. All the wonder and beauty of the universe tied up with a goodbye-

It isn’t until she’s struggling for breath that she realises she’s been saying it out loud after all, the gasping is actually sobbing and there he is, crouched in front of her. When had he sat her down?

“Oh silly, silly River Song you’re better than this.” He has her face between his hands, sliding the tears off her cheeks as they fall. “What does it matter when the last time will be? There’ll always be versions of us out there somewhere.”

“Y-you know that’s n-not what I mean.”

The Doctor calls his eyes old. He says they’ve seen more pain and history than any being in the universe and he thinks that makes him unlovable. When she meets them now though, they’re fresh as the snowflakes that had settled on his eyelashes under London Bridge on the frozen Thames of 1814. They’re pale, and marbled, and clouded with louder emotions than love. And that’s what he needs most.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

He scoffs, “Not how you do.”

“How can we share anything Doctor? We can’t share a lifetime-“

“Yes, you’re right, we can’t, but we can listen to Stevie Wonder at the last Frost Fair and ice skate on the River Thames and, AND!” he jumps up and turns back to the console, leaving River to pull herself back to her feet. “AND! What about Rio? Kept telling Amy I’d take her but, well, you know, things need help and places happen- wait, no, hold on…“ He scratches his cheek, watching the scanner intently. “Well, you know.”

River approaches him again, sliding her arms around his waist and laying her cheek against his back. “Yes, my love, I know.”

He’s quiet then, properly quiet. That’s how she can tell he’s sad.

“You say hello so there’s more of them than goodbyes, is that right?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to.

“Take me home Doctor.” She says instead.

He turns, wrapping his arms around her, placing the smallest of kisses on her forehead. “Oh Doctor River Song, don’t you think you already are?”

 


End file.
